In order to respond to a request for a wall in a private space, the artist started with the idea of the forest …
Work carried out from December 2014 to April 2015.
Oil painting, linen canvas mounted on a wooden support.
Dimensions: 460 x 333 cm.
This series is the most recent in the artist’s work.
Muses are real women and men who are between 25 and 40 years old.
“So far none of them have really posed. The experimentation gradually led me to consider portraits from painted backgrounds, by the muses themselves “…
Series composed of 33 canvases of 140 x 210 cm.
The quality of the breath produced by “saying 33” allowed Laënnec to develop the stethoscope. The etymology of stethoscope literally expresses “I see in the chest”.
The artist has chosen to present her paintings with the title of Phusis
This is the theme of the landscape – The landscape is the painting – The intensity of living – Picking the marvelous
The current location is in front of the workshop in Orcet, Auvergne, from sunrise to sunset in all seasons.
It is a landscape of gentle hills and ancient volcanoes. Ranging from cultivated plots to inextricable woods and scrub. A permanent spectacle, a deep joy.
On the threshold of appearance lies interiority. Is the articulation between two spaces invented? I can suggest the appearance and the mask. Surface and bottom, surface and depth. Heavy and light. Lightness and weight. Is this a dialectic?
It’s about painting.
On the threshold of the visible, the invisible. Is it about the presence of the invisible within the visible? I am not evoking the reflection, the mirror because it is just as much an allusion to the antimonde of the Greeks, to the parallel multiverses, to the foreigner and the strangeness, this “other part”. Upside down in one place and vice versa. Proceeds from shifts in displacements. In all directions I touch and I am touched, it’s not nothing. “The world is symmetrical” because, in a way, where I am, I am also in front, in another and in myself. I feel like it’s not so much about discussing probable or improbable advancement as it is about being.
Take this risk seriously, that of the Dionysian expense.
A breath of wild grass sparkles on the immateriality of the “shelters of souls” – star dust that sublimates the rare reality of figuration – immersed in a mist of spirituality – at times refused. And we fall heavily on a house without a window – the door forever closed.
Rosa, a convinced admirer.
For me, this theme is an obvious choice. The volcano is there. Magical place of desire, of ecstatic encounter. It is history in the present, the emergence from the bottom to the surface, like painting. This is rough action. The act of painting over and over again. The place of the beginning; circular, deep, dizzying.
The Pavin is the place of the inexhaustible, vertical transport of the breath of the earth, a metaphor for painting itself.
These are blocks of matter, already there. They act in me and I contemplate them. Strangely familiar. What interests me is this “colossal sculpture”, mysterious, robust and perennial, which is built and crumbles vertically. It is not a question of a particular place but of the echo of a singular or multiple mountain, of epiphanies: “strangely troubled blocks of stone which imprison in the depths of their mass fleeting and lazy gleams, as if in they had coagulated an air several hundred years old? Tanizaki.
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